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Join Date: Nov 2005
Posts: 118
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Professionals (tentative title)
Criticize away.
Prologue
It was raining. The night was cold, and dark. My breath clouded before me as I lay atop the roof, watching. Waiting. So far, I hadn’t seen him, save for when he first walked in. Instead, I watched as his children and wife decorated the five star hotel room with Christmas decorations. They smiled and laughed, oblivious.
There.
The door opened and he walked in, immediately smiling at the decorations. The children ran to him, and he picked of them up, one in each arm. His wife walked over to him, kissing him softly on the cheek. I watched for a moment more before looking through and closing my left eye. The rain had lessened to a light drizzle, not that it would have been a factor. He had set the kids down and was now listening patiently as they pointed emphatically to the Christmas tree and talked excitedly. He was smiling, an arm draped around his wife’s shoulders.
There was no point in delaying the inevitable. I squeezed and the window exploded, sending shards of glass tinkling into the air; the moonlight made them diamonds. He immediately pitched backwards, and I stood up, rifle in hand. There was no need to confirm the kill, and no need to see the faces of his children and wife. There was nothing left to do but make the call. I strapped the rifle to my shoulder and removed the mobile phone from a pocket, dialing the number. As always, it rang only once.
“Yes?” the soft voice asked.
“It’s done,” I said, before flipping the phone closed and walking towards the rooftop door. I didn’t look back.
Chapter 1
She was radiance, the sun.
“What do you want out of life, Alexander?” was the first question she had asked me, her soft lips a playful smile as we danced closely on the ballroom floor.
You.
“I don’t know,” I answered as we swayed gently to the music.
We danced in silence for a moment, before she whispered in my ear, her warm cheek touching mine.
“I do.”
And suddenly, it had seemed as if we were the only ones there, barely dancing; the music playing faintly in the background.
“What do you want?” I had whispered back, uncertain. Uncertain, but hoping that maybe…
Maybe.
And slowly, lightly, her lips trailed from my ear, across my cheek, and met with my own. Her lips were warm, her tongue, wine, and when she finally pulled away I felt intoxicated from her taste.
Who would’ve thought that from that one kiss, that one dance, that she’d now be lying in my arms next to me? Sometimes, I think I’m dreaming. Sometimes, I don’t believe that I’ve found her, and I’m afraid that one day she’ll just…disappear. And each morning, she’s there. An angel that awakens me with a kiss.
Eliane.
My sun.
~~~
The phone rang, and not the house phone. My business phone. I had never thrown it away, instead tossing it the nightstand’s drawer. Carefully, I pulled my arm from under Eliane and gingerly crept out of bed, grabbing the phone and flipping it open.
“There’s trouble,” the voice began before I could even speak.
I glanced back at Eliane, and was relieved to see that she was still fast asleep. I tip-toed out into the hall, closing the bedroom door gently before speaking.
“What do you mean?” I asked softly, frowning as I walked.
A pause.
“Lydia’s been killed,” the voice sighed. “By a professional.”
I stopped walking, unbelieving. “What do you mean?” I repeated, my voice a whisper. “You’re the only professionals here.”
“Doesn’t seem that way anymore, kid,” the voice replied. “And you’d better get out of that house as well.”
“Why?”
“Because I think it’s Jack that killed her.”
…Shit.
“Are you sure?” I asked, pacing back and forth tensely. “Because if you are-”
“Do you know of any other professionals in this city?” the voice asked quietly, silencing me. No, I knew of no other Professionals, at least not in South City.
“Maybe from another region…” I began weakly, trailing off before even finishing.
“Professionals rarely take out of region assignments,” the voice replied, stating a fact I already knew. “And you remember what he said, before he disappeared?”
Yeah, I remembered.
After years of searching, he had somehow found me. I guess inheriting a multi-million dollar corporation would give you a lot of free time and resources to pursue certain hobbies, so to speak.
“You think you’re gods, don’t you?" he had said, as tears streamed down his face. "It’s not even the money, you sick bastards get off on the fact that you hold people’s lives in your hands. You don’t care that you’re taking away people’s loved ones. Aunts, uncles, mothers, fathers, sisters, friends. I’ll make you pay. For my father, and for everyone else you’ve killed, I’ll make you pay.”
He was one of the reasons I left the business. Not because I was afraid, but because something in me agreed with him. Somewhere, on some level, I thought I was a sick bastard as well.
Whenever I killed someone, I never looked back. Boss had told me that when I was eight, as I practiced my aim by shooting pigeons from the sky. She told me that seeing their faces would give me nightmares.
“Alex?”
I pressed the phone to my chest and turned to find my love standing in the kitchen doorway, managing to look both sleepy and concerned.
“Is something wrong?” she asked, stepping forward; her brown eyes were uncertain.
I shook my head. There was absolutely no way I could get her involved in this.
No way.
“It’s nothing,” I said. “Just a business call. Go back to sleep, okay?”
She stood there, and for a moment I was afraid she’d seen through my lie. But then, she walked up to me, kissing me gently on the cheek.
“Okay, hurry up though. You know I can’t sleep without you next to me.”
Of course I knew.
“I’ll make it quick,” I promised, returning the kiss.
She walked back into the hall, and I waited until I heard the bedroom door shut before putting the phone back to my ear.
“He wants revenge,” the voice continued, as if never interrupted. “Remember, he disappeared for five years. And we both know he wasn’t taking a vacation.”
He sure wasn’t. From what I heard, he was in another region, learning the tricks of the trade from some of the top professionals in the world. It looked like he progressed quite well.
“He’s good,” the voice suddenly said, as if reading my mind. “From what I’ve heard, he’s damn good. Maybe even better than Mac.”
“So you’ll take him out then,” I concluded. “If he’s going to kill all of us, he needs a place to stay. He has to be holed up somewhere.”
“You’re right, of course,” the voice agreed. “A few birdies told me that he’s moved back into that old mansion.”
I’ll admit, I was a little surprised. “Why would he move someplace so public? He should know you’ll retaliate for Lydia’s death.”
“A trap, most likely,” the voice said. “But I sent Mac up there. He should be able to take care of it.”
“You sound worried.”
Another pause.
“I am.”
I didn’t say anything, and the voice spoke, “I just called you to warn you, kiddo. If things go according to plan, you’ll have nothing to worry about. I don’t want to intrude on your new life.”
“It’s okay,” I said, as a tremor of guilt went through me. “Thanks for the warning.”
“No problem, and Alexander?”
“Yeah, Boss?”
“Be careful.”
The line went dead, and I slowly flipped the phone closed. I walked back into the bedroom and slipped into bed, wrapping my arms around my wife. She sighed, and turned toward me in my embrace. I stared at her face. The face I could see with even with my eyes shut. The woman that I would do anything for.
I would protect her.
Even if it meant killing again. Even if it meant dying.
I would protect her.
Last edited by Serenade : 02-16-2006 at 04:40 PM.
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